


Taken and Returned

by raven_aorla



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e38 Lost and Found, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Let a Statement Giver Be Happy, M/M, Past Gaslighting, Past Suicide Attempt, being seen is the first step towards being found, minor stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: Though the phone call from the gentleman at the Magnus Institute had given him enough solace to fall asleep, Andre was startled awake by the sound of a creaking door. It didn’t sound like his or a neighbor’s. Then there was a heavy thump onto the bare floorboards (the rugs had vanished a month ago). He switched on the lamp and gasped.
Relationships: Andre Ramao/David Ramao
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Taken and Returned

In the years since making his statement to the Magnus Institute, Andre Ramao had lost his favorite coat, his watch bequeathed to him by his grandfather, half his dinner plates (but not the other half, oddly), even more books, and set of bedsheets. This didn’t count innumerable pens and other things that normal people lost all the time, just not in such quantities. In order to stay afloat, he’d also been forced to sell pretty much anything of monetary value he still owned, before _that damn vase_ got to it first. He hadn’t heard any complaints, meaning once he transferred ownership and was nowhere near the things, those things stayed safe. At this revelation, he’d quickly rehomed the stray cat he’d taken to feeding and petting when it got near enough, in case that counted as ownership. That poor cat wasn’t going to blink out of existence if he could help it.

He’d also been hospitalized after a failed suicide attempt, one that by all rights should have succeeded. Apparently his life was the one thing he couldn’t lose. Whatever thing that was climbing out of the vase, with its long fingers and dirty fingernails, hadn’t wanted to stop playing with him yet. 

Now he was living in a little one-room flat, with cheap rent and not as many opportunities for what few possessions he still had to be out of his line of sight. He’d turned in early, too exhausted to go through his usual ritual of counting everything that mattered, seeing what was still there, seeing if anything was gone.

“I’ve forgotten your voice, darling,” Andre whispered to the cold, empty side of the bed. He tucked the blankets more closely around himself. “I don’t know if it was the vase. It might just be how memories work. I remember your smile, but I’ve forgotten your voice. Another year and the smile might go too. I’d give up everything I still have just to remember your voice, if I couldn’t have all of you back.”

Then his mobile rang. He sat upwards and grabbed it with shaking fingers. It would be too much to wish for to hear David again, but it might be a client. He still had a few connections, despite it all, and focusing on appraisals and authentication of antiques rather than buying and reselling them had proven safe from his curse. “Hello?”

The man’s voice was friendly as it was tentative. “Hello. Mr. Ramao, right?”

“Right. What’s this about?”

“Sorry about the late-ish hour. I’m actually not at work, I’m on sick leave and I can’t sleep so I thought I might try and see if this would - sorry, rambling, I should get to the point. I work for the Magnus Institute. My, well, my boss is the new head Archivist, and he came across your statement while trying to organize the files his predecessor left behind. He asked me to follow up. I found your marriage certificate, saw that you have one, you were married, but half the details are simply blank. Your spouse’s half. I wanted to say that I believe you. I think my boss might as well, but he’s busy with other matters and isn’t likely to get in touch. And...I’ve seen what it’s like, losing someone to a _thing_ , and everyone thinking you’re insane when you try to tell them what happened.”

“You don’t think I’m insane?” Andre asked, his voice cracking on the last word.

“No. I’m sorry that I can’t do more for you, but I thought it might help just a little.”

“It does. It very much does. Thank you…”

“You can call me Tim.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“I’ll follow up if there are any further developments.”

“Thank you. I hope you get well soon.”

“Me too,” Tim said, with a hint of bitterness.

Though the phone call from the gentleman at the Magnus Institute had given him enough solace to fall asleep, Andre was startled awake by the sound of a creaking door. It didn’t sound like his or a neighbor’s. Then there was a heavy thump onto the bare floorboards (the rugs had vanished a month ago). He switched on the lamp and gasped.

David lay unconscious on the floor, in the very t-shirt and pajama bottoms Andre had last seen him in. When Andre rushed to his side, he saw four marks on one of his cheeks, and one on the other, like evenly spaced jabs from a penknife. No blood, yet oddly fresh. David had also grown very thin, his always gangly body now downright gaunt. But he was here, and he was breathing. Then he opened his eyes.

“Davey, I thought I’d lost you forever,” Andre said, clutching at his hand. His wonderfully solid human hand, even if it was far too chill to the touch. 

“I thought I was lost forever,” David choked out, his voice raw. “There were these winding corridors, Dre, I was trying to find my way back, but every door I found twisted right back into more of them. Sometimes I could hear this bizarre laughter, like if a headache thought something was funny. It wasn’t as headache-inducing as the atrocious carpet and wallpaper patterns, though.”

They both shared a weak chuckle at that. “Let’s get you in bed and warm you up.” He wanted to make David a cup of tea, as well, maybe a good meal if he could stomach it, but that would require letting go of him. 

David followed on unsteady legs, equally unwilling to let go of his hand, and kept talking. “I didn’t get hungry or thirsty, but I got tired. Every time I curled up to sleep in a corner that seemed maybe the slightest bit safe, I dreamed of that horrible vase you kept staring at. Eventually I realized that the patterns around me were the same as the fractals on the vase, except in colors that I don’t think humans are meant to be able to see. I realized that I’d been...eaten by the vase. Or stored in it. Or maybe the vase was some sort of conduit to this endless _vase maze_. That’s when I started screaming and crying in earnest. I’d shouted for help before then. Not that it did any good.”

He trailed off, his pulse thudding in his wrists, so Andre tucked him in with lots of blankets and spent a few minutes kissing him and holding him close. “I should have appreciated you so much more.”

“And I should have believed you. I’m sorry.” David took a deep breath. “I don’t know how long I wandered there. It felt like a long time. Then I saw the first person I’d seen since arriving. The place wouldn’t even let me dream of another person, you see. I only had my increasingly weak memories to go on. I knew it wasn't a normal person, though. They were tall, with long blond hair and a voice that was soft and amiable but also like a distorted screech. I know that doesn’t make sense. They didn’t make sense. Their hands were too big. One of them could have wrapped around my torso, even the smallest fingers were long enough to strangle me, and they ended in sharp points. Not sharp fingernails, Dre, it had fingernails but that wasn't the only sharp part. The fingers themselves had sharp points.”

“Is that where you got…” 

David touched his own face. “Yes. They grabbed me by the chin with one hand and around the waist with the other. It felt like little scalpels piercing my face and ribs, even though I don’t think they bled. They seemed disappointed but also carefree about it, like they’d been slightly inconvenienced. They said: _When one plays games with other Powers, one must concede a piece from time to time. I couldn’t keep you hidden from the Eye after all. It’s not as amusing now that your husband isn’t universally considered mad, anyway, that was rather the whole point._ Then a door opened and the creature unceremoniously shoved me through it.”

Andre had accepted long ago that he was the toy of something he could never understand. The idea of being a toy that multiple things he could never understand might _squabble_ over made him shiver. But he had to focus on what he had right in front of him. “You’re here now. I’ll chain us together if I have to.”

“Hm, kinky.” It was a well-worn joke, more of a ritual than actual humor, but at least it showed that David was still at least somewhat himself. He rubbed his face, then winced when it came in contact with marks. “Now I’m the one who’s not...I can’t promise I’ll be all right.”

“Nobody would be, not after that. I don’t need you to promise anything. We’ll keep it simple. One step at a time. Is there something you’d like to eat?”

David kissed him again, slow and sweet. “I could murder a curry, actually. Do you have wine?”

“Assuming it’s still there.” Their shared laugh had a note of hysteria in it. 

The wine was, in fact, still there. Everything was still there in the morning, and the next day, as they slowly rebuilt their lives in a world where David Ramao had existed for decades. Andre stopped losing things entirely. 

...Except the occasional sock. Some curses are universal.

**Author's Note:**

> David's experience in the Spiral is different from others we've heard about because I wanted to bring in a little Lonely vibe while pulling in some of the vase's aesthetic too. Plus I bet Michael likes switching things up occasionally.


End file.
